


Hope for the Future

by awizarding



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I don't care if it's an overused stereotype I love it, In which Harry is in denial about his sexuality, M/M, Truth Or Dare AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awizarding/pseuds/awizarding
Summary: A magical game of truth or dare. A couple of bottles of Firewhisky. What could ever go wrong?In which a kiss from Draco Malfoy sends Harry spiralling into the confusing maze that is his sexuality.





	Hope for the Future

     Harry wasn’t sure how he had ended up in the Slytherin common room at an ungodly hour downing Firewhisky and playing truth or dare. He supposed the most surprising part that he, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ginny and a couple of other seventh and eighth year Gryffindors were fraternizing with the Slytherins. There were people of different houses too, such as Luna Lovegood and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw, and Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. The Slytherins consisted of Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle. It was strange seeing Goyle without Crabbe, it was, Harry noted with a pain jabbing his chest, similar to that of George being without Fred. Harry knew that thinking like this was dangerous, as it might cause his feeble attempts at a wall crumble beyond repair, letting the waves of anguish and pain and guilt left from the war tumble out for everyone to see. He had to be brave and strong, for everyone else’s sake, for if their saviour couldn’t keep himself together, how could they?  
     “Harry! Harry!” Something hit Harry square on the forehead. It was a shoe. Looking across from where he was sitting, he saw Hermione frowning. He must have zoned out.  
     “Sorry, ’Mione,” Harry mumbled sheepishly, rubbing his head from where he had been hit. “But was that really necessary? I think one scar is enough.”  
     Hermione smiled. “It’s your turn, Harry. Ron asked you whether you would choose truth or dare.” She explained.  
     “Right. Uh, dare.” Harry nodded in Ron’s direction.  
     Ron giggled—actually _giggled_ —before assigning him his task.  
     “I dare you…” he hummed thoughtfully. “To kiss the prettiest person in the room.”  
     Had this been under any normal circumstances, Harry would have no problem with this demand, but the game was enchanted.  
     _Of course, it fucking is_ , Harry thought. Nothing was simple or easy in the Wizarding world.  
     The game, naturally, seemed to know exactly who Harry should kiss, and to Harry’s surprise and embarrassment, the pale green bottle pointed towards Malfoy.  
     _What?_ Harry thought. _Since when do I think Malfoy is anything but a pain in the arse?_  
     Malfoy smirked. “Of course it’s me. You should have said ‘girl’, Weasley, it was pretty obvious that I would smoke all you bitches.”  
     He was even cockier than usual when slightly drunk—they hadn’t been drinking for too long, luckily—but he was correct in that regard, or at least the game seemed to think that Harry thought so.  
     “Hurry up, Potter, we don’t have all day,” Malfoy drawled.  
     Harry rolled his eyes, standing up and walking over to his left, where Malfoy was sitting. He was certain that his cheeks were still red, as how could think that a guy was good-looking? He wasn’t _gay_... was he?  
     “What, is your sexuality too fragile to kiss me? Are you _scared_ , Potter?” Malfoy asked, moving closer to Harry.  
     Harry narrowed his eyes in determination. “You wish, Malfoy.”  
     And then he kissed him.  
     It was short, abrupt, but the sensation was so hot and bright in his chest that Harry ripped away and gasped as if burnt. _What the fuck was that?_  
     Malfoy was right: Harry was scared. He was terrified that it had felt so good and that even if the contact between their lips was so brief it had felt so… right. And Harry was left wanting _more_.  
     “Excuse me,” Harry whispered, scrambling to his feet and all but running away. He heard cries of indignation and concern but he didn't stop to listen. He ran until he was safely in through the portrait hole and up the staircase inside his dormitory. Drawing across his curtains, Harry collapsed onto his bed as he tried to make sense of what happened. After several minutes of consideration, he decided that it must have been the alcohol, nothing else, and slowly gave in to sleep.

     “Harry!” Hermione called the next morning at breakfast. She ran up to where he was sitting at the end of the table. “Where did you go?”  
     Harry shrugged. “I was tired.”  
     “But you—”  
     “ _I was tired_.” He insisted firmly.  
     Hermione, fortunately, seemed to let it go for the time being as Ron approached.  
     “Hey, Harry.” He greeted as he sat on the opposite side of the table. “Look, mate, I’m sorry about last night—”  
     “It’s alright, Ron, really. I was just tired.” Harry said.  
     Ron was about to go on, but Hermione nudged him in his side with her elbow and he got the silent message: _drop it_.  
     After they ate, mostly in silence on Harry’s part, the three students headed off to the dungeons for Potions.  
     McGonagall had let all the seventh years return to Hogwarts after the Battle of Hogwarts, and enforced new rules for better house unity. The motto for Hogwarts had also changed: _Sicut et nos unum sumus_.  
     _It sure is a lot meaningful than the last motto_ , thought Harry to himself. _Especially after all that happened_.  
     Their new Potions teacher was Romola Edderton, a young witch who became the new head of Slytherin house. She certainly was a lot nicer than the last head, and definitely helped to dispel the rumours of Slytherin’s association with Dark Magic. Of course, a majority of Death Eaters were from Slytherin, but there were a fair few from other houses too, and Harry believed strongly in second chances. Well, except for a select few who definitely didn’t deserve it.  
     “Alright, take your seats, please. Today we will be looking at…” The rest of Professor Edderton’s words were drowned out as Malfoy walked in looking tired, but still pleasantly like his usual self. He caught Harry’s eye and raised his eyebrow questionably, causing Harry to flush with embarrassment at being caught and look away.  
     This happened again a few times throughout the lesson, making Harry almost accidentally put in twice the amount of leech juice required.  
     “Harry!” hissed Hermione, grabbing his hand before he tipped over the entire bottle. “Be careful! What’s got you so distracted?”  
     “I’m not distracted,” replied Harry.  
     Hermione crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. “What potion are we making?” she asked.  
     “Uh…” Harry tried to peer over at the open book on his desk, but Hermione saw through his plan and covered the page with her hand.  
     “Try again.” She said.  
     “Okay, okay, you won. I was distracted. Sorry.” Harry sighed, turning back to his potion and reading the instructions, to which luckily he found that his potion wasn’t all that bad by the book’s standards.  
     He didn’t look in Malfoy’s direction again for the rest of the lesson, even as he was packing his things. He refused to give in to the temptation, no matter how much he wanted to. His plan seemed to work, until Harry left his last lesson of the day; Charms, and was making his way down up to his dormitory. He wanted to grab his Firebolt and have a flight around the Quidditch pitch before practices started. The eighth years weren’t allowed to take their previous positions on their house teams, as McGonagall wanted them all to focus on their studies for their final year.  
     “Potter.” Harry froze at the familiar voice. _Shit_.  
     He turned to face the very person he had been trying to avoid. “Malfoy.”  
     Malfoy was about to speak again when Harry interrupted him. “Look, if this about last night, I have nothing to say to you.”  
     He tried to walk away, but Malfoy’s hand grabbed his wrist. Malfoy’s hands were a lot colder than Harry’s, and he had to fight down a squirm at the shocking feeling. As Harry looked down, he noticed how much darker his skin was compared to Draco’s pale complexion.  
     “Nothing to say? Nothing at all?” Draco walked closer to Harry, looking him in the eye.  
     Harry swallowed. _What is happening to me?_  
     “Are you afraid because you liked it?” Said Draco softly, the sound causing Harry to shiver.  
     “I—I didn’t like it.”  
     Draco rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Well, let me know when you pass your denial. I’ll be waiting, _Potter_.” He whispered the last part in Harry’s ear with particular emphasis on Harry’s name, before turning away with a smirk on his face. Harry watched as he walked away, trying to calm his breathing as he hurried up to his dormitory, all thoughts of flying erased from his mind.

     “Hermione,” Harry walked up to where Hermione was sitting in the library later that evening. He couldn’t shake his thoughts of Malfoy from his mind, and the git seemed to be relishing in the fact. Hell, he _winked_ as he caught Harry’s eye at dinner. Harry was slightly worried his face had caught fire it was so hot.  
     “Harry. What are you doing here?” came Hermione’s response and Harry relaxed. They had become quite close throughout the last two years, and Harry trusted her with his life—which she had actually saved more times than he could count in the last seven years.  
     “I need your advice.”  
     Hermione didn’t sigh or make a comment on how that was all he seemed to ask her for, but instead, lay down her quill and turned to face him with her full attention.  
     “I’m listening.” She said as she motioned for Harry to sit down beside her. As soon as he obliged, Hermione took out her wand and discreetly placed a silencing charm over them so as to keep their conversation private. It was a habit they had all grown since they had been horcux hunting earlier that year.  
     “I, er, well—” Harry stuttered, then shook his head. “It’s about last night.”  
     Hermione gestured with her hand for him to continue.  
     “I think—no—I liked it. Kissing Dr—Malfoy.” _Did I almost just call Malfoy Draco?_  
     “I know.”  
     Harry blanched. “What?”  
     “Oh, Harry.” Hermione tutted. “You’re really oblivious sometimes, you know that?”  
     “I’m not—”  
     “Yes, you are. You’ve had a crush on Malfoy for ages.” Hermione interjected.  
     “What are you talking about? I’m not—gay.” Harry argued, though his voice quivered with uncertainty. “I liked Cho. And Ginny.” He added. Even if they hadn’t been together long, as he and Ginny had peacefully ended their relationship shortly after the war had taken place.  
     “And Cedric.”  
     “I didn’t like—” Harry paused as he suddenly realized. “Oh my God. I did.”  
     His best friend gave him a knowing smile. “Took you long enough.”  
     “But that makes no sense. How can I like guys if I like girls too?” He asked, confused.  
     Hermione sighed as if he were asking a stupid question, which he did, a lot. “You’re bisexual, Harry. That means you like both.”  
     “Oh.” _That’s new_. Harry had never heard of that before.  
     “Yes, Harry. _Oh_. Now go talk to Malfoy before I hex you into next week.” Just like that, Hermione dropped her silencing charm and pushed Harry away from the table. He didn’t hesitate in leaving as soon as he could.

     The next morning, Harry woke up exhausted. He couldn’t sleep, his mind only focusing on Draco. _Stupid prat_ , he thought grumpily. He hadn’t been able to find Draco last night, so Harry went to bed with the promise to do as Hermione asked as soon as he woke up.  
     He went down to breakfast with the rest of his roommates, laughing at Seamus’s previous experiment—the result of which accidentally set his bed sheets on fire.  
     “ _Aguamenti_!” Dean had quickly called out with a light blue flash of his wand. He and Seamus had come out as a couple after the war, so Harry supposed that Dean had gotten used to his boyfriend’s seeming predisposition for pyromania.  
     “So, Harry, we missed you at the Quidditch pitch yesterday,” commented Neville.  
     “Oh, yeah, I, um, something came up, sorry.” Harry apologised.  
     “More like _someone_ ,” Seamus snickered, and the others chuckled in agreement.  
     Harry felt his cheeks go red yet again, which they usually did whenever he thought about Draco. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked anyway.  
     Groans ensued from all his friends.  
     “We’re talking about _You-Know-Who_ ,” Ron said as if it were the most painfully obvious concept.  
     “You mean Lord Voldemort?” Said Harry, smirking as he ducked a piece of toast that had been thrown at his head at his own idiotic joke.  
     Ron shook his head. “Seriously, Harry, don’t be daft. I meant Malfoy.”  
     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. “What?” he asked as he heard Dean and Seamus whispering to each other with grins plastered onto their faces.  
     “He’s watching you, Harry.” Dean looked as though he were trying not to laugh.  
     Sure enough, as Harry turned around, Draco was staring right at him intently. Harry blushed again, looking away momentarily before looking back again. Draco hadn’t even moved and was entirely unapologetic at being caught. That in itself was even more unnerving, as he watched Draco take a small sip of his goblet, his gaze never faltering, and slowly licked his lips as a drop was left on the corner of his mouth.  
     _Holy motherfucking shit_. Harry felt as though he couldn’t think straight anymore.  
     “Oh my God, you guys. Look at his _face_.” Seamus had bent over, laughing hysterically. His friends all looked over to Harry and began howling in unison.  
     “Fuck you,” Harry grumbled as he pushed back his chair, stalking away from the Great Hall as he tried to fight the redness in his cheeks. This was humiliating. _Had Draco always been this bloody_ hot _?_  
     Harry supposed the answer was yes, he just had never realised it before, but surely Draco had to be really trying to get Harry to notice. It was too much. One quick bloody kiss and now Harry was a mess, and couldn’t think about anything other than kissing Draco again for a lot longer. He walked through the halls, heading to the Divination corridor for his next class until he caught a glimpse of someone following him. Ducking behind a wall, he pulled out his wand.  
     “ _Locomotor Mortis_!” he shouted as he hurried out in front of his pursuer.  
     Said person was thrown off balance and sat up with their legs stuck together. It was Draco.  
     “Christ, Potter. Do you do that to everyone who walks behind you?”  
     Harry quickly muttered the counter-curse and helped Draco up. “You were following me.”  
     “Funny, I don’t think that’s what an apology sounds like.”  
     Harry rolled his eyes as he pocketed his wand. “Sorry, Malfoy.”  
     “Malfoy is my father. Call me Draco, Potter.” Said Draco.  
     “Call me Harry, then,” Harry replied.  
     Draco chuckled. “Alright then. Hello, Harry, I’m Draco.”  
     “Pleased to meet you.” Harry grinned.  
     “You certainly seemed pleased at breakfast.”  
     Harry was taken off guard. “I—I wasn’t—”  
     “Yes, you were. Merlin, I didn’t think that you wanted me that badly.” Said Draco.  
     “W—want you?”  
     Draco took a step towards Harry. “Surely you’ve realised that. I saw you talking to Granger.”  
     “Don’t flatter yourself, Draco. At least I’m not stalking you.” Harry tried to sound calm.  
     “What, like you did in sixth year?” Draco raised his eyebrows as he stepped even closer.  
     “That—that was different!” Harry objected as he moved back.  
     “Was it really? I wonder, did you only realise how much you really did want me when you kissed me?” Even closer.  
     Harry was too nervous to speak. Draco was speaking the truth, and they both knew it. It was terrifying.  
     Instead, he walked backward with each step Draco made, until he could go no further: there was a wall against his back. Draco moved closer, still, until they were only inches apart. The air seemed electric, humming with power as it drew them together. One moment, Harry was staring into Draco’s cold grey eyes, the next, he was kissing him.  
     When their lips met it was all so much better than the last time it had happened, and Harry couldn’t imagine how he had gone this long without this. This feeling, like every hair on his body, had risen as the static sensation rolled over his back like every cell had been set alight as his chest and stomach burned, an eternal flame that had been yearning to be set alight. It was incredible, and Harry couldn’t seem to be able to get enough of their lips moving, hungrily devouring each other like wild animals who had been starved for days. When he opened his mouth and his tongue met Draco’s he tried to fight the urge to moan out loud at the contact, his legs almost buckling as Draco made him weak. Then Draco himself moaned, and Harry had never heard a better sound. _Holy shit_.  
     They only stopped when neither could breathe any longer and stood as they were, breathing heavily. If this was snogging, Harry could totally believe Ron for doing it so much in their sixth year with Lavender Brown.  
     “Merlin almighty, Harry.” Draco gasped.  
     Harry was just as awe-struck. “I—never knew I could do that.”  
     Draco turned to face him immediately. “You’ve never snogged someone before?”  
     Harry shook his head. “Too busy trying not to die. Not that it helped much.” He laughed breathlessly.  
     “Wow,” was all Draco seemed to be able to say.  
     “Guess I can’t exactly say I’m straight anymore.”  
     Draco chuckled. “I made Harry Potter gay.”  
     “No. Cedric did, actually.” Harry corrected him.  
     “Harry, it doesn’t make you gay to think Diggory was hot. Everyone thought he was hot.”  
     Harry grinned. “Good point.” He looked around at the empty corridor they were standing in. There was still probably a half hour until class started.  
     Taking hold of Draco by his tie, he led him around the corner quietly. Draco seemed to want to question this but otherwise wasn’t all that reluctant to follow him.  
     The Room of Requirement had been almost completely repaired, almost being that most of the contents had been burned by the fiendfyre, but otherwise, it was very much back to normal.  
     As soon as Draco caught sight of it, he smirked. “You read my mind.”  
     They stepped through as Draco opened the door, Harry pulling him in. They looked at each other wanting, looking into each other’s eyes.  
     “Scared, Potter?” Draco whispered, his heated breath grazing Harry’s throat.  
     “You wish, Malfoy.” Came Harry’s reply and they both smiled before crashing their lips together ravenously yet again.  
     Draco pulled his lips away from Harry’s mouth only to kiss along Harry’s neck, sucking and biting. Harry gasped and moaned, and Draco grinned. This was so much better than kissing girls, or anyone for that matter. The fact that it was Draco was amazing, and Harry couldn’t see himself doing it with anybody else. He could swear that that moment was perfect.

     “See you spoke to Malfoy, then.” Said, Ron, as Harry sat across from him at the table, Draco in hand. Neither did as much as try to wipe the huge smiles on their faces.  
     “Doesn’t look like they did much talking,” jeered Seamus, pointing at Harry’s neck.  
     “Oh, no, mate! Did you get hit by a Bludger again?” asked Ron. Thus ensued even more laughter from Seamus’s end, the said Gryffindor falling off his chair. Dean laughed with him, helping him back to his seat.  
     “No, Ron. They mean he has a hickey from Draco.” Came the soft dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood, who sat between Ginny and Neville. The three had become good friends during their time at Hogwarts, and shortly after Ginny had broken up with Harry, she had started going out with Luna. Neville had also gotten himself a girlfriend: Hannah Abbott, whom he had been friends with for quite a long time. Neville had become popular after the war, and his newfound good looks were quite the benefiting factor.  
     “What—oh my God!” Ron exclaimed loudly. “I really didn’t need that visualisation.”  
     “Oh, really, Ron—it’s not like you haven’t done that sort of thing to thing to me before.” Hermione rolled her eyes and then continued reading her newspaper, the only hint that she had heard Ron’s next outcry being her growing smirk.  
     “I wonder what your mother would say, Weasel,” Draco commented, looking delighted.  
     Harry grinned. “I know she would really like some grandkids, but aren’t you moving a bit fast?”  
     “I—Hermione and I never—you can’t just—” Ron sputtered. If Harry had thought that Seamus had been laughing hard before, it was nothing compared to what followed. He was now lying on the floor, howling as Dean laughed heartily beside him. Even Neville had managed a chuckle, and Ginny—who had just arrived moments before—looked like Christmas had come early.  
     Harry looked over at Draco, who was laughing loudly next to him and smiled. He loved this moment and wished it would last forever. He felt hopeful that his future would be bright with all his friends happy by his side and knew in his heart that he would be able to easily face any problem that came his way. Besides, he was the Boy Who Lived, wasn’t he? He would always keep breathing, a survivor until the very end.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this.  
> Until we meet again,  
> — Abby


End file.
